Valentine's Day
by Vio the Great
Summary: Seychelles tries desperately to find her true love on Valentine's Day. Chaos ensues, of course. Seychelles x Canada. Written for a fanworks exchange.


**A/N:** Here's another story I did for the Hetalia Sunshine Exchange, as a Pinch Hit. I know, it's totally early for a Valentine's fic, but... THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT. Please Enjoy~

_**Valentine's Day**_

Valentine's Day. Considered by some to be an extremely romantic day, and by others something entirely commercial. Either way, it always felt like a terrible thing to be alone on it, especially when everyone around you is happily in love.

And currently, two short days away from such a romantic holiday, Seychelles was alone.

The brunette island nation sighed, one hand twirling a low pigtail, the other tracing a fish in the sand. This was the time of year when she wished she weren't stuck out her alone in the Indian Ocean, far away from the other countries. Sometimes other nations would come to visit, particularly France, him being the one who raised her, but they were all back up in their homelands now, getting ready for a sweet evening with their lovers. At this point, she just wanted to talk to someone, _anyone…_

She gazed out at the crashing waves as they hit the shore again and again, dragging bits of sand away, bringing fresh new shells in, water sparkling in the sun… Then it hit her. Hungary!

The Eastern European girl had come to visit once, and they had bonded quickly, becoming fast friends. Hungary had a boyfriend, Austria, that she always talked about, so she'd definitely have some good advice…

Seychelles dug around in her dress pocket until she found her cell phone, a simple device with a fish charm hanging off it. A quick search through her phonebook found the number she was looking for, and she hit dial.

A few rings later, a pretty voice answered, "Hello?"

"Hi, Eliza. Um…"

"Oh! Sesel! Hang on juuuuust a second, please, I need to finish something."

She heard the sound of the phone being placed gently on a table, followed by an angry scream of, "DAMN IT PRUSSIA, STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM AUSTRIA'S VITAL REGIONS, OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL BEAT YOUR FUCKING HEAD IN!" The sickening _crunch _of metal hitting a skull bone, along with a loud shriek, came through the phone line, then Hungary's voice returned.

"So, Sesel! What's up?"

On the other end, Seychelles was still wincing from the sound of the frying pan hitting a German head-on, quite literally, and took a moment to breathe deeply and calm down before responding. "Er… I forgot." She drew another fish in the sand, and the thought returned. "Oh! Right. I was just thinking about how Valentine's Day is coming up, and wondering what you'll be doing." She had no idea why she asked this particular question, it just seemed right.

"Hm?" Hungary giggled. "Weeeell… I think I'll just spend the day with Austria, see if he wants to go out to dinner. I'm going to make some chocolate in the shape of a violin, since it was a piano last year. What about you?" There was no mistaking the happiness in her voice.

"Um… I don't know. I don't really have anyone to spend the day with, so-" She was cut off by a sharp gasp on the other end of the line.

"Oh! Oh, Seychelles! I'm so sorry! That's terrible, you can't be alone on _Valentine's Day_!"

Seychelles smiled weakly. "Well, no, I-"

She was cut off again. "Hey! I have an idea! Listen, I'm going to make SURE that you find Mr. Right this year. Can you get a flight up here by tomorrow?"

"Well, yea-"

"Great! Okay, get to my house as SOON as you can. I'm going to get things ready, see you later!"

"Wait, wha-"

The line went dead.

Seychelles rolled her eyes. Well, she had to find out what that crazy European girl was planning, so…

Standing up, she got to packing.

* * *

Seychelles had hardly even reached her destination before the rather hyperactive Hungarian shoved her into the hands of Feliks Łukasiewicz, the nation of Poland, who's job was to give her a fashion makeover.

"Like, it's totally nice to meet you, but your clothes are SOOOO last year! Ohmigod, Eliza, why didn't you tell me I had, like, a fashion DISASTER on my hands? C'mon, sweetie, have totally GOT to get you to the mall, like NOW. Seriously!"

Not the warmest welcome ever.

So thirty minutes and a walk through a freezing cold northern European parking lot later, Seychelles found herself being dragged through an overly decorated polish mall, covered top to bottom in red and pink colors, enough to drive anyone insane. When she asked about it, it turned out that Poland had requested this himself, to make it 'like, so much cuter'.

"Okay, so, like, try this on, and this, and this, and this!" The blond was pulling dress after dress, all in equally blinding red and pinks, off the racks and throwing them at her, rather in tune with the love song blasting in the store.

She winced as yet another dress joined the two-foot high pile. "Um, Feliks, this is kind of-"

Poland's head snapped up. "Like, why are you still standing there, let's get going and try them on!" He grabbed her shoulders and propelled her toward the fitting room.

One of the first things Seychelles realized when she looked at her fashion advisor's pile of chosen clothes was that they were all very… summery. Spaghetti strap sleeveless things that looked very unfitting for the frozen weather. Somewhat afraid to question Feliks, however, she pulled a short, frilly, pastel pink dress on.

When she was finished changing, she stepped out of the stall to let the Pole critique it.

"Hmm… Like, don't get me wrong, that looks totally cute on you, but I think it would look, like, SO much better on ME. It just doesn't… WORK for you! Next! Oh, and like hand me that when you take it off, I want to wear it."

Seychelles made a mental note involving crazy Polish people and returned to the dressing room.

The next item was even worse in terms of warmth, a completely strapless, short and tight piece of material, all in white. When she came back out, she found that Poland had changed into the previous dress, and that he had been right; he DID look better than her in it.

"Like… No. It's, like, totally bland anyways. Next!"

A few minutes later, before she even had a chance to open her mouth, he yelled, "No! Next!"

And the next time…

"Ooh, that's- Oh, wait, that sleeve, like, totally sucks. Next!"

And…

"OHMIGOD NO! Lord, that's, like, AWFUL!"

"No."

"Like… Nah."

"Ew. Next!"

"Like totally NEXT!"

And on it went, until there were only a few of the original hundred left, and Seychelles was beginning to wonder if she should have just stayed home.

"OH. MY. GOD. That's, like, SOOOO totally PERFECT!"

And it was. Sleeveless, ruby red, low neckline, a thin sash around the waist tied into a neat bow, and a flowing, wispy skirt. Seychelles spun around and watched her reflection and as the fabric flew and fell gently back into place.

"Ohmigosh you look so darling, here, you can wear this scarf, too, since it's like, totally cold, and we'll go get some boots and gloves, and I think Eliza has a shawl that will TOTALLY go with this, and you will be ADORABLE. As long as we can, like, do something with that hair of yours…" Poland grinned enormously, resembling a blushing schoolgirl on crack.

Seychelles smiled and went along with it.

* * *

Tall, shiny brown boots with thick low heels, a soft, cream-colored scarf, pale pink gloves hugging her hands. Valentine's Day had arrived, and Seychelles gazed at herself in the mirror, feeling out of place and awkward. She wasn't used to wearing scarves or big heavy boots, since her home was so warm.

"Here, Sesel, your old, borrowed, and blue." Hungary draped a pastel blue shawl of sorts over the island nation's shoulders.

"Er… You know, I'm not getting married…"

"Close enough. Now, you look gorgeous. You should wear your hair down more often."

Elizabeta and Feliks had insisted that she take her hair bows out and allow her brown locks to lie loose. She ran her hand through it again, feeling nervous. "Um… What exactly is going to happen?"

Hungary smiled her sweet, innocent smile. (As opposed to her evil, insane, about-to-bash-your-skull-in smile.) "It's simple. I found a few guys without dates and," her voice lowered, "sometimes resorting to violence," it returned to normal, "convinced them to each go out a short date with you, where they'll give you some food from their country and you can chat a bit. You'll cycle through them, and when you meet Prince Charming you can go off and spend the rest of the day together. Easy! Don't worry, I took care of everything, and Feliks helped. Now c'mon, let's gogogo!" Slightly out of breath, she grabbed her frying pan and pushed Seychelles out the door.

* * *

"Ve~ It's nice to meet you! I'm Italy, but you can call me Feliciano!" The Italian boy smiled brightly at her and presented a bouquet of flowers, which Seychelles accepted, blushing, while silently wondering how he could see with his eyes closed like that.

As they walked casually down the cobbled street, Italy babbling on and on about the pretty scenery, she tried to figure out how this was going to even work. Did Hungary think that she'd just hit it off with someone and everything would be sunshiney and la-di-da?

"Oh! I almost forgot! Do you want some pasta?"

She looked over to see a very warm-looking plate of spaghetti in front of her, steaming up the freezing February air. She shivered involuntarily; no matter what Feliks said, she was still cold. Her arms were mostly bare, and the dress was thin. But anything for fashion, he had said, and she didn't have much of a choice at this point.

Before she could even say anything in response, Italy was dragging her to a chilly metal bench and placing the plate on her lap.

"O-oh… Thank you." She picked up the fork and twirled it around in the noodles a bit, Italy watching, eyes still closed, expectantly, smiling in anticipation.

"YOU FORGOT THE TOMATOES, DUMBASS!"

Seychelles jumped, Italy shrieked, and the pasta did absolutely nothing as a dark haired man with a hair curl pointing in the opposite direction of Italy's came running over, irritation written all over his face.

"B-b-b-big brother Romano!" Italy was on the verge of tears now, terrified by the face his older brother was giving him. "Wh-wh-what are you doing here?"

"You bastard! That potato asshole has screwed with your head! That shit-storm is about to hit us, AND YOU'RE EATING PASTA! Dammit, come with me before OH GOD IT'S SPAIN GO AWAY BASTARD!"

Seychelles stared as the Italian, who seemed darker than his brother in more than one way , threw a tomato at an approaching tan brunette man, presumably Spain, another at the pasta, and grabbed his brother, yelling, "Look! ENGLAND!" The two of them started running, and a second later seemingly vanished into thin air.

The Spaniard, still walking over, wiped the broken tomato off his face, tasting a bit of juice as he did so. He smiled to himself, reminded of how cute his little Lovi used to be, and looked up at the _very_ cold looking tan girl sitting on the bench, a plate of tomato splattered pasta still in her lap.

Seychelles pulled her flimsy shawl tighter around her shoulders and shuddered, and suddenly a Spanish man with bright green eyes was sitting next to her, offering a chocolate covered churro.

"I'm sorry about Lovi. He's protective of his brother in his own way. It's too bad you had to see that, though…"

She shrugged and took a bite of the churro, eyes widening when she realized how delicious it was.

"I'm Spain, by the way. Call me Antonio!" He grinned at her, bright eyes shining.

"Uh, yea… I'm Seychelles. This is really good! Almost as good as fish, but it's sweet!"

"Haha! I'm glad you like it! Hungary told me to bring food, something good, so churros are the way to go! But, you know, she's scary with that frying pan… I feel bad for Prussia."

She winced, flashing back to the background noises from the phone conversation. "Yea…"

"Ah~ Antoine, how are you?"

Seychelles nearly choked on her churro as the flirtatious French accent hit her ear. "And mon Sesel! How are you, mon cherie?"

She started coughing, a bit of dough caught in her throat. Spain clapped her on the back, and she gasped for a moment before muttering a 'fine'.

While France had been a good friend while she was younger, he had gained a disturbing habit of groping her as a greeting as of late. She cringed.

The Frenchman's face suddenly appeared before her, a rose clamped tightly between his teeth. "Cr'pes, mo' ch'r'e?"

Spain stood up. "Well, I'll be going now. And Francis, you may want to try repeating that without the rose. Adios, señorita! I'll go find Lovi~ The Spaniard wandered off, appearing carefree, leaving Seychelles alone with a creepy pervert.

France removed the rose from his mouth. "Crepes, mon cherie?" Out of absolutely nowhere, he produced a plate of fruit crepes.

A cold wind blew past as she accepted the somewhat questionable food, and France looked over what she was wearing, pausing at certain places for a bit too long. "Mmm… You look cold, mon chou. Let's get moving, perhaps find someplace… _warmer_, non? If we are closer together, you will not get chilly…"

Despite her better judgement, she left the pasta on the bench and stood up, allowing the blond man to move far too close, and he proceeded to wrap an arm around her.

"You know, le France is so much more beautiful than here… You should come back with me, and I'll show you all the sights." He pulled her closer, hands creeping forward. "It IS Saint Valentine's Day, after all…" His perverted hand nearly hit her breast, and she pulled away quickly. Freezing to death would be preferable to THAT creep.

"Er… Let's go in there!" She had learned by now that Francis liked to hear people respond badly to his advances, and that it would only cause him to get worse. Ignoring it entirely was the best way to go.

They entered a quaint little café, and a blast of warm air hit her straight in the face, the smell of delicious pastries soaring up her nose and defrosting her quickly and swept her inside, where hot coffee was cheap and everyone was crowded around, warming up.

Seychelles was about to look for a seat when a particularly bulky man across the room caught her eye. His slicked back hair and serious demeanor scared her a bit, but it was much worse for France, who jumped and yelled, "Merde!" when he spotted the man.

"Damn, Germany! Well, mon cherie, I'll be going now. Au revoir!" In a flash of wintery air, he was gone.

The German across the room stood up and approached Seychelles, who stood rooted to the spot.

"…Are you Seychelles?" His voice was deep and scary. She nodded mechanically, petrified. He looked like he could throw her across the room with no problem…

"I'm Germany. My brother Prussia dragged me along here to meet you… He says I 'need to get laid by someone other than Italy.' Here, have a wurst." He handed her a sausage and looked around. "Oh, Prussia's coming. I'm leaving then. Italy's probably mass producing white flags, anyways…"

As he left, an albino man that wasn't quite as muscle-y or terrifying came over, grinning insanely. "Kesese! I'm the awesome Prussia, bow to my awesomeness! Oh yea, here's a beer."

She shook her head nervously. "No thanks. But, um… I thought you weren't a country anymore?"

Prussia froze, shock forming across his face. His eyes widened, and he suddenly shouted, loud enough for everyone to hear him, "FUCK YOU!" He spun around and stalked through the hoards of people, clearly heading for the corner with a sign painted above it, reading 'Emo Corner.'

Seychelles gasped and dropped the wurst, which was later eaten by a stray dog. "Nonono, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean, I just- Y-you're awesome, right? C-Can you tell me about that?"

He stopped in his tracks and faced her again, all hints of depression gone, the grin plastered on his face once again. "Oh, yea! Kesese! I'm awesome! I'm the most awesome nation in the world! Hahaha!"

She blinked. "Um… Why?"

"Do I NEED a reason? I just AM!" The overconfident albino smirked enormously.

"Well… Yea, you sort of need a reason…"

"FUCK YOU!" He whipped around and retreated to the emo corner, this time ignoring her apologies.

Sighing, Seychelles turned around- and found herself face to face with England, which immediately made her jump back.

"YOU!" they shouted in unison.

England turned up his nose. "Hmph. I don't know what you're doing here, French brat, but you're in the way of my afternoon tea. Now, move!"

She glared him down, ignoring the demand. "No! I refuse to let you order me around! I'm my own country!"

"Do you think I care? Move over!"

She shook her head. He couldn't go anywhere unless she backed up; there were too many people around them. "No!"

"I NEED MY BLOODY TEA WOMAN. GET OUT OF THE WAY." His thick eyebrows appeared to be eating his face as he glared. It was disturbing.

"NO!"

"MOVE OR YOU'LL BE BRITISH TERRITORY UNTIL THE END OF FOREVER, DAMN IT!"

She suddenly realized that France's crepes were still in her hands. "Fine. Have your damned tea! But, eat these and LEARN HOW TO COOK ALREADY!" Not stopping to think about the temperature outside, she slammed the plate into his hands and stalked out of the café.

In the emo corner, Prussia continued to whine to himself and run his finger depressively along the ground until his brother came to find him several hours later.

* * *

Outside in the cold, Seychelles found her next date waiting for her: America.

"Hey! You're even cuter than she told me you were! I'm America, nice to meet you!" He reached into a McDonald's bag and pulled out a hot, freshly made cheeseburger.

She accepted it and ate some, wincing as a sharp, cold wind hit her side. "It's good…"

"Of course! Hamburgers are the best meal you can get! They're perfect to eat everyday, you just have to change the toppings! …_Damn_, it's cold here…" He shivered and pulled his brown bomber jacket tighter against himself.

Even though he seemed just as cold as she was, America appeared to be extremely hyper. He jabbered on and on about his adventures throughout the years, and how in the end he was always the hero, no matter what. They walked slowly through the quiet street, homely shops on either side of them; the perfect setting for a romantic scene, Seychelles realized. She glanced up at the American, noticing that he would be really attractive if he could just _shut up_ for more than half a second. But just as thoughts barely began to form in her head, and she felt a bit nervous, America looked up, alarmed.

"Oh, crap! I was supposed to be bothering Iggy at his teatime! I knew I was forgetting something! Anyways, there's Switzerland. Gotta go!" And, stuffing the rest of his burger into his mouth, he ran off.

Seychelles sighed and took a last bite of her sandwich, throwing the rest into the trash bin and dusting off her hands. This was getting ridiculous. If Hungary thought she was going to fall in love like _this_-

"Are you Seychelles?"

She looked up to see a very angry looking Swiss man with chin length blond hair standing before her, glowering. What was up with all these blond European nations, anyways? They all scared her in their own way…

"U-uh, yea…" she stuttered, intimidated by the look he was giving her.

"Hmph. That crazy Hungary bitch made me come here… What are you still standing there for, walk!" He spun on his heel and stalked forward, and she scampered behind, whimpering softly.

They walked a ways, Switzerland never saying anything more, Seychelles shuddering in the cold, praying he wouldn't suddenly turn on her with the gun attached to his hip.

Was it really still Valentine's Day? It seemed like ages ago that she had wanted desperately NOT to be alone today. But now, cold and fearful of the man in front of her, she wanted nothing more than to be back home, happily fishing. She should have never called Hungary…

Out of nowhere, Switzerland stopped. "Oh, fuck it, this isn't worth my time!" Ripping out his handgun, he fired a blank into the air and yelled with frustation. Not knowing it was a blank, Seychelles shrieked and raced off like a spooked rabbit. She ran down an old back alley and kept going, passing several streets and eventually finding herself in a large, open square, in an older section of town, with classic style buildings all around her. She wished again that she were home, dancing carefree by the ocean.

Out of breath, she doubled over, clutching her knees for support. She was lost, she knew it. She had no idea how she would get back, and Elizabeta had taken away her cell phone for some stupid reason.

Her chest still burning a bit, she finally looked up. If she could borrow someone's phone…

There was only one person in the square, and just by looking at him she could tell he was a fellow nation. He had wavy blond hair and glasses, closely resembling America, but… Not quite the same. He was sitting on the step of one of the buildings, throwing bread crumbs for the pigeons. She struggled to stand up straight and approached him.

"Um… hi…"

The America-look-alike looked up. "Oh… H-hi…" He held the bag of crumbs up to her. "Feed the birds?"

Despite that not being her intention at all, she couldn't resist his nervous smile. She reached into the sack and tossed the food into the air, grinning blissfully as the gray birds soared down to eat it.

She turned back to the man. "I'm Seychelles, by the way. Who are you?"

His cheeks flushed slightly. "Canada. Call me Matthew. But then, you'll probably forget my name soon enough…"

The moment he said that, it all made sense to her. "Oh! You're America's brother! I've heard of you!"

His blush increased, and he looked shocked. "Y-you have?"

Seychelles nodded vigorously. "Yea, Francis talks about you a lot! It's nice to meet you, and- oh?"

She was interrupted as a small white bear came waddling over. Canada followed her gaze. "Oh, that's Kumajirou."

The bear stared at him. "…Who?"

"Ca-na-da!" Matthew sighed. "See? He always forgets me…"

The island nation took a seat next to him, pulling her knees close for warmth. "Th-That's… weird…"

He suddenly noticed her clothes. "You look cold… H-here, wear this." He pulled off his sweatshirt, a red hoodie with a white maple leaf on the front and handed it to her, mumbling something about being used to the cold.

Grateful, she balled up the shawl and pushed it into one of the pockets as she pulled the offered clothing on quickly. "Thank you…"

They sat in silence for a moment, then Matthew spoke up nervously. "So, um… Why are you here, anyways?"

Glad to have someone who would listen to her, Seychelles recounted her tale of trying to find love on Valentine's Day and meeting all the crazy European nations who disappeared quickly, not giving her a chance. At the end, she looked down. "Well… It's already getting late, so I guess I'm single again this year…"

Canada watched her, appearing to be thinking, and finally said in his soft voice, "You know… the day's not over yet… H-Hey, I'm staying at a place not too far from here, do you want to come back with me? It's warm, and, er… Y-you look like you need some rest, and food, I can make pancakes…"

Seychelles looked into his eyes, which were a gorgeous amethyst color. "That's probably the best thing I've heard all day." She nodded, and Canada picked up his bear and got to his feet, using one hand to brush the excess bread crumbs off his jeans.

"O-okay, it's this way…"

They walked close together, inching nearer to each other without even realizing it. Once or twice their shoulders bumped accidentally, and they both mumbled something of an apology and moved away, but in the end they always wound up right next to each other, moved by some quiet need to be by another's warmth.

Seychelles was half asleep by the time they reached their destination, a homey little cabin away from society. It's chimney puffed out light drifts of smoke, and never before had anywhere looked quite so cozy to her as this place did.

As soon as they entered, she yawned loudly. Immediately, she raised her hand to cover her mouth and mumble a 'sorry, sorry…', but Canada looked concerned and quickly led her to a cushiony couch.

"Here, just… Just rest for a while, okay? You look really tired, I'll make you something to eat when you wake up…"

Too tired to argue, she nodded and sleepily shoved off her heels, dropping onto the couch and sliding right into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Nnnggg…."

"U-um… Are you awake?"

Seychelles opened her eyes slowly and found someone staring at her, looking nervous. It took her a moment before everything came back to her, and she smiled. "Canada…"

Matthew sat up. "Ah, I was afraid you would forget me while you slept… It always happens. I'm happy." And he smiled at her, in a way that made her cheeks redden deeply.

She pushed her way into sitting position, noting that she was still wearing his sweatshirt, but not the scarf. He must have removed it while she slept… "So…" She yawned. "Where's the food you promised?"

"Right!" the blond jumped up quickly. "Hold on a moment, I'll get it ready…"

As he went off to prepare, Seychelles sat back and looked around. There wasn't much in the cabin, just a fireplace with a gently burning fire, the couch she was sitting on, a few chairs, and a table. The kitchen was attached, and a short staircase led up to what was most like the bedroom.

Canada returned quickly, holding two tall plates of pancakes covered in maple syrup. He handed one to her and joined her on the couch, putting the plate on his lap and beginning to eat.

She took a bite and smiled. "You know, I've had a lot of food from all over today, but this is really good… Thank you. And thank you for letting me come here, I don't know what I would have done otherwise."

The Canadian sounded like he choked a bit, and he blushed deeply. "U-u-um, you're welcome, it's no problem, really, don't worry about it, I just, er, um…"

Seychelles giggled. "You're… really cute…"

Now he was definitely choking. She nearly had to do the Heimlich on him this time, but he finally swallowed properly and was able to speak again. "Eh…?"

"Like I just said." She put the plate down on the table and turned to him. "You're cute. And maybe it's just because it's Valentine's Day, and I've lost all rational thought after everything that's happened, but… I think I like you, Matthew."

Shakily, he put his plate down and looked at her. "S-Seychelles…"

Their eyes locked, amber to amethyst. Seychelles leaned forward a bit, feeling bolder than ever, somehow. "Matthew… Today's almost over, and we'll lose the moment soon, but… For the last few hours, will you be my valentine?"

Slowly, Canada lifted his arms and wrapped them around her waist, pulling her up against him, feeling her soft hair fall forward and brush him ever so softly. He couldn't speak, so he simply nodded and gazed at her. She was beautiful. As she had slept, he'd noticed that, and she was so sweet, and just something about her…

He closed his eyes and kissed her gently, barely even touching her lips, until she gave silent consent by tying her arms around his neck and kissing back, twisting herself so that she was on his lap. Electricity ran up his spine, and he knew that this was _right_…

Very, very slowly, they pulled apart. Seychelles stared up at him, lips still slightly parted, and Matthew smiled. "Happy Valentine's Day…" he whispered, and pulled her into a second kiss.

Outside, snow began to fall. Hungary and Poland ducked down from the cabin window and grinned at each other, high fiving quietly and slipping off into what would soon be a white night. The plan had been a success. It could never have failed, those two were so perfect together…

And never again would they spend Valentine's Day alone.

~~End~~


End file.
